


Benched

by SolarMorrigan



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Dakota's got bad eyes, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Local Author Creates Bullshit Reasons For Damaging Characters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: For a moment, Cavendish simply sat on the pavement catching his breath, before whirling around to demand just where the hell Dakota had gone when he’d needed him.The reprimand had barely formed on Cavendish’s tongue when he caught sight of the shards of orange plastic and realized exactly what had happened.





	Benched

**Author's Note:**

> I finally saw "Abducting Murphy's Law" and needed some hurt/comfort, so I'm just gonna drop this fluffy mess here. I've always liked the photophobia headcanon for Dakota's shades, but I've seen at least one person headcanon that he's also got just terrible eyesight, so I ran with it. I'm a little bit sorry for the weak title pun

If there was one thing that could be said for a job cleaning up after extraterrestrials, it was that you saw many new things.

A bench, mutated and given limited sentience by alien chemicals, for instance.

Cavendish and Dakota had been provided with the neutralizing agent, of course; it was only a matter of getting close enough to the damned rambunctious piece of public seating to actually apply it.

The bench packed quite a punch with its flailing arm rests and strangely prehensile wooden tentacles (“How does thing even make _sense_?” Dakota had demanded. “Like, from an evolutionary standpoint, what the hell would the point of this thing be?”) and, though Cavendish couldn’t quite pinpoint when it had happened in all the chaos and confusion, he found himself wrestling with it on his own.

He liked to think, however, that his ability to dodge anything that might prove lethal had improved quite a bit since his propensity for dying had been brought to his attention (and could no longer be corrected with time travel). With better honed-reflexes and determination sharpened by irritation, it wasn’t too terribly difficult to reach the obvious chemical stain on the bench’s – underbelly? Whatever one wanted to label the anatomy of a mutated bench as, Cavendish managed to hit it with the neutralizer and watch as it writhed and twisted back into something distinctly more pedestrian-friendly.

For a moment, Cavendish simply sat on the pavement catching his breath, before whirling around to demand just where the hell Dakota had gone when he’d needed him.

The reprimand had barely formed on Cavendish’s tongue when he caught sight of the shards of orange plastic and realized exactly what had happened.

The sunglasses weren’t salvageable, one arm snapped off and the left lens completely shattered, and Cavendish hoped dearly Dakota had put his spare pair in the van as Cavendish had suggested. And speaking of Dakota – he couldn’t have gone far.

A quick glance around proved the assumption correct; Cavendish spotted Dakota squeezed into a narrow alley not more than a few meters away, fully out of the sun and with a hand clapped over his eyes.

“Dakota?” Cavendish alerted the man to his presence as he approached. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Stupid bench got in a lucky shot,” Dakota huffed with a mirthless laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m quite alright. The bench has been dealt with.”

“Shit, I’m sorry for bailin’ on you, there. Sunny as hell today; I went a little, uh – y’know, blind.”

“That’s alright,” Cavendish assured Dakota, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder; Dakota’s least favorite part of being without his glasses, he once confided, was not being able to tell where he was in relation to everything else – where he was in relation to Cavendish.

Severe nearsightedness, in combination with photophobia, was decidedly unhelpful when one was attempting to keep track of one’s walking death-magnet of a partner, it seemed, but Cavendish did his best to alleviate Dakota’s concerns where he could.

“Are you hurt?” Cavendish asked, situating himself between Dakota and the mouth of the alley.

Dakota shrugged, shifting his hand over his eyes. “Probably got a good bruise, but nothin’ terrible. I’m fine.”

“Will you let me see? I’m blocking you from the sun,” Cavendish assured Dakota, guessing his protest before he’d even opened his mouth to voice it. “You don’t even have to open your eyes, I just want to make sure you don’t need medical attention.”

“I’m seriously fine,” Dakota said, even as he tentatively slid his hand from his face, trusting that Cavendish was where he said he was.

“Well, I’d just like to check for myself,” Cavendish replied evenly.

There was, as Dakota had guessed, already a decently-sized bruise purpling beneath Dakota’s left eye, contorted slightly by the way he had both eyes scrunched shut.

“Headache?” Cavendish asked, palpating the area around the bruise to check for further damage.

Dakota hummed an affirmative. “Got an eyeful’a sunshine before I ducked in here. That wasn’t great,” he confirmed. “Plus, y’know. Got whacked by a bench.”

“Well, you seem alright. We’ll have a look at your pupils when we get somewhere darker.” As he spoke, Cavendish’s fingers slid absently from a clinical examination of Dakota’s face to a gentle, circular pressure on his temples.

“I’ve got my spare shades in the van. We still gotta check to see if there’s any more of the stuff that fucked the bench up, don’t we?” Dakota asked, some of the lines of tension around his eyes fading as Cavendish massaged.

“I didn’t see any,” not that he’d particularly been looking, “but we can come back and do another sweep later. For now, how about we get you somewhere less sunny and with more aspirin?”

Dakota didn’t argue. Instead, he reached up and clumsily wrapped his hands around Cavendish’s wrists, as if holding him in place. “Thanks, Bal,” Dakota sighed.

Quickly, Cavendish leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dakota’s forehead; he normally wasn’t one to allow much affection on the job, but if he was honest, his mind had already shifted gears from work to making sure any painful stimuli affecting his partner was dealt with.

“Of course,” Cavendish answered, soft and certain. “Cover your eyes again; I’ll lead you to the van.”

Without hesitation, Dakota covered his face with one hand and held the other out for Cavendish to take, ready to literally follow him blindly.

It was heady, every time Dakota so viscerally placed his trust in Cavendish and, as he carefully led his partner around any obstacles between themselves and their transportation, Cavendish promised himself to do what he could to always be worthy of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr](http://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/183763268218/benched-milo-murphys-law-established)


End file.
